Eine insel mitten im mekondelta
Trip Start Jul 11, 2009
63Trip End Ongoing
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Where I stayed
in the best hotel there was
After an awesome journey, most luxuriously air conditioned and thouroughly relaxed undertaken in a minibus, organised from the trusworthy guesthouse, we arive at our destination at the mound of the Mekong, far south, almost at the border to Cambodia. The neighbouring country only a crossover of the stream away.
As I leave the cool bus, the air comes like a wall on me, and shade is sought soon. The transport over one of the rivers is quickly arranged, lots of tourists want to go to one of the multitudinousspots surrounded by water. In my boat, aiming at Don Khon(e), supposed to be the quieter one of the two most popular, all speak one language. Congratulations reader: german. Spoken throughout the world. Good for me!
I do have some heat problems, but of course, it's all in my thoughts
On the small island, easily cycled round in half a day, chickens, ducks, kids, bikes and even some motorbikes cross and move on the unsealed, hole-strewn dusty pathway.
In the mornings local people can be watched doing their morning toilet bath in the river. One even has placed a chair in the shallow waters and comes in the morning with a small pink plastic basket full of toiletteries. Especially in the evening whole families enjoy the cooling atoms of the life-giving liquid. Yeah, I feel like it to, but choose not to swim with the buffallows, they too, bathe there. And it won´t be long until... On my first night, the just mentioned already far gone, me sitting on my personal verandah, enjoying the breeze, coming from the waterfront, I hear a big rumble. Noisily, I screen the surroundings, peering in the dark, trying to make out far away objects, and there, suddenly materialised, he is, under the light of the hotel. The big water-buffallow. Fully awake from the racket he is making by fumbling around with metal litter found in the ditch, my eyes follow him noisily on his path. Soon he is shooed away by the hotel receptionist readily alert in the open bureau.
The island is famous for a remnant steam train a left over from former colony times and ta, ta, of course the impressive waterfalls of Somphamit. With a borrowed bike I explore the island and get to see the sights easily. The waters cascade down the curvy ways adorably and lots of tourists are welcomed by a bunch of local vendours all trying to sell their products
very good spirits; guarding me at night – one of them sleeping on the porch
my house-cat that eats a gecko, which she catches by a jump to the bare wall
a completely german speaking transfer boat